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  Sep 2018 Dominique
Julian Delia
The bomb’s flash is blinding,
Brighter than any kind of lightning.
The enormity of the mushroom cloud is frightening;
A monstrosity both terrifying and grotesquely enlightening.

The eyelids instinctively board shut in fear;
Adrenal glands working overtime,
More in this moment than a whole year.

Yet, eyelids seem useless,
For the reality leaves one speechless.
In this moment, you will see an X-ray of your own vessels and bones.
It will feel like a ghastly omen, like the earth itself shakes and groans.

And then, the shockwave hits, gut-wrenchingly raw;
A fallout so powerful, it might break the bones you just saw.
A cataclysm of impossible energy, an apocalypse that ends in sheer awe.

The nuke –
Admired and feared from afar,
Trepidation come alive, a door to hell left ajar.
The symbol of being forever at war,
Apocalyptic nature in its demonic core.
Loved only by its makers,
Hated by most living on earth’s many acres,
Respected by all.
This is an extended metaphor, up to you to make the connection.

Special dedication to the Atomic Veteran Society.
  Sep 2018 Dominique
Heart of Silver
Close your eyes

Your world, not extending
beyond the soft quilt under
your skin, unending


Soft ripples of cloth, and picturesque seams
Nothing here but
You, me, the sky, and soft dreams

I'll reach up and take the stars from the sky
If only to lay them at your feet
to place them in your hands
to bring light into those glazed eyes
or give a glow to a world so bland

and each one would be folded
into a beautiful origami castle
I, the lord, and you, the vassal
Or perhaps me as the king
and you as a queen, whichever
My gentle playmate.. which one is better?

I'm a majestic creature of the sky
You're an empty-faced child on a quilt
Each star shall be used as a stepping stone
so I might meet you in the place I built


Let us meet, as lovers, or
at least equals
on this starry floor
And your body falls into each soft fold
It's here, right here, that I can hold
you close, keep you safe and warm
so you, from the rest of the world
I'll withhold

Consider this a "romantic poem".. but not about me! Actually, this is a story I've sort of written. :)

Hmm, let me try to describe it. A little girl living in a world all her own, a world that's nothing more than an empty quilt with an endless sky. Above her, lives a sort of "sky-creature" and he happens to be in love with her, so he builds her a castle of stars.
  Sep 2018 Dominique
Ciel Noir
♦  
♦   ♦  
   ♦ The  ♦    
♦  Hidden ♦
♦  Diamonds  ♦
♦  No one knows  ♦
♦I mixed them in with♦
♦The♦rest♦of♦the♦stones♦
♦But you can see from♦
♦ Where I stand a  ♦
♦ Constellation♦
    ♦In                ♦  
     ♦The        ♦    
    ♦Sand♦  
♦   ♦

  Sep 2018 Dominique
E. E. Cummings
i have found what you are like
the rain,

            (Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
                                  with thinned

newfragile yellows

                      lurch and.press

—in the woods
                      which
                              stutter
                                        and

                                              sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
                  your kiss
  Sep 2018 Dominique
E. E. Cummings
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
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